IT'S A SICK SAD WORLD AFTER ALL
by LittleBirdieChan
Summary: Daria has come to notice a car parking in the same spot in front of her family's residence. It was seriously starting to freak her out. Possibly for a good reason.
1. Vintage Cars & Inaproppriate Art

**ENJOY ~**

* * *

 **(DARIA):**

 **APRIL SATURDAY MORNING**

 **11 AM**

I've been gawking at an old fashioned car from the comfort of my upstairs bedroom window for about an hour now.

That car had been parking in the same spot for an entire week. It pulls up right in front of my family's residence, next to the neighbor's driveway. The engine would always rumble, like a low growl, or purr of some giant beast. It was sleek. Black. Shiny. With a silver lining. Really hard to miss. You'd think the person who owned the vehicle sold bibles at your doorstep, or worked at a funeral home. But. Once the driver's door opens & you get a glance at the owner, you then get to thinking, if you were ever to pull up next to that car at a red light, you'd lock your doors & roll up your windows. Because stepping out of the vehicle was Mr. Leather Jacket & Ripped Jeans.

He was a middle aged man. Late twenties at best. Sandy cropped hair & a broad face. No one that I recognized of course. I figured he was just visiting family nearby. But then, as I studied the guy, I swear he was constantly looking over his shoulder. He was carrying a large gray satchel. What was in the satchel, I couldn't tell, but the guy popped open the trunk of his car. Sketchy as hell, being as the man took his time putting his belongings away. I heard someone downstairs call for me from the kitchen & for the brief moment I looked away from my window, the man was gone.

I felt the need to bring up the strange car & its owner situation during brunch, but then I walked into the kitchen. Somebody was yelling.

Actually. Two somebody's.

"Morning, kiddo!" Greeted dad. He was dismantling a smoking toaster. "OW! DAMMIT. I rather take you apart by throwing you to the ground!" Well. Trying to anyways. I silently unplugged the thing before it decided to malfunction. Or worse. Hurt somebody by burning the entire house down.

"JAKE! Calm. Down. You're going to have a stroke one of these days, then what are you going to do?" Mom. Ready to leave for work, wearing her lady suit & tight pencil skirt. Like always. "Good morning Daria. Daria. Why in the world are you still in your pajamas? Don't think you're spending the whole day-JAKE. NO! Put the toaster down!"

" _EW._ What is that horrible smell?" Cue the younger annoying sister. Quinn. "EEEWWW! What is with that look Daria? Did zombies chase you out of your dreams or something?"

A huff. "Yes." I said. "I chased zombies out of my dreams & into your nightmares. Which might explain the horrendous smell of guts you're trailing off."

"You're weird!" She scoffs. "And I _DO NOT_ smell."

My family & I all sat together at the breakfast table with toastless plates. I tried to bring up the car thing again, but then everyone ended up in three entirely different conversations. Nothing eventful happened afterwards. I went back to my bedroom after everyone left the kitchen. I threw myself at the end of my mattress, & once I looked out my window, the car had disappeared.

I tried to call up on Jane Lane all afternoon. Around the twelfth call. Her older brother, Trent, answered. He told me that Jane was working on a huge art project, that she'll be busy for the rest of the evening, but he'd be sure to give her a message for me. I thanked Trent, hung up, & never called again. That left the majority of the evening to myself. I spent it finishing three books (cover & back), skimmed through a horror graphic novel, & then ended up watching TV all night.

* * *

 **APRIL SUNDAY MORNING**

 **3 AM**

Running on two liters of soda, but mostly by sheer willpower, I began to question the possibility of slowly losing my sanity, or a slight moral increase of my normal paranoia. I've never stayed up past midnight. I'd blame the television set in my room, but then again I can't seem to turn it off. Especially when there was an all night marathon of Sick-Sad-World. A TV program which consists of outrageous conspiracies & urban myths supposedly based on solid truths. Thankfully it was the weekend. So. I could watch as much TV as I wanted, & wouldn't have to hear the constant, "You look horrible more than usual" from that of the popular walking clique of cliches.

I began to nod off. TV blaring & all.

It couldn't have been more than thirty minutes when I began to have a bizzare dream about black vintage cars pointing their incoming blaring headlights at me. I was in the middle of a highway, holding my arms up, preparing myself for impact. Yelling. It's until the headlights were so blinding, I found myself fighting my tangled bedsheets. My digital clock hit me in the head from my bed's headboard. All I could make out was a blur of red. I fumbled around for my glasses. The clock read 5 AM. I pulled the curtains of my window aside & vertically slid it open. I took in a long breath. It smelled like it had just rained. Light drizzle. Maybe. The morning sky barely had a tinge of pink over the horizon, & it was speckled with faint white stars, & a half moon. If it weren't for the annoyance of birds chirping, I'd still think it was cold as a night in the middle of January. But it was spring. The weather was seriously bipolar this time of year.

I then cringed. Sure enough, I spotted the irksome vehicle that had haunted me in my dream just a few hours ago. It was parked in the same spot. Again. Right in front of my family's residence. Next to the neighbor's driveway, & again. I caught the driver at the end of the car with the trunk's hood open. This time. Instead of the man carrying a satchel, constantly looking over his shoulder, & taking his time putting it away. He quickly took out the satchel, slammed the trunk's hood shut, & ran into the void of the morning. Catching myself poking my head out the window as far as I could, I almost toppled over.

As the man sped into the void of the morning, something glinty fell out his satchel, & slid under his car. A huff escaped out of my nose. I couldn't believe what ran across my mind. I grabbed my favorite green jacket out of my closet, stepped into my black boots, & snatched a pocket flashlight off of my desk. I nearly tripped down the flight of stairs past my parents' bedroom. I slowly creaked the front living room door open & snuck across the street.

Just when I thought the car was alone. It wasn't. There was a different person crouched down the driver's window, with a set of different shades of yellow aerosol cans. A person I've come to know who was too busy with a huge art project last night.

I held the lit flashlight over Jane's head. All while attempted to have a little fun. "Drop the stencil & the spray can down, miss. Put your hands where I can see them. Now."

Jane jumped & gave me a wide set of blue eyes. They disappeared when she realized it was me. "JEEZUZ. Daria! You DO NOT do that to a girl in the middle of the morning!"

She had clearly been jogging just a few moments ago. She was wearing her track shorts, worn out sneakers, & an oversized red hooded sweater.

"You're not normally awake this hour. Especially during the weekend." I said. "What are you doing?"

Jane was crouching again taping a stencil to the car. "I'm putting my art skills to the test. I'm going to vandalize this beautiful Chevy Impala '67."

I felt my eyebrows raise over my glasses. Jane felt the face I gave her.

"You remember that vintage dress up phase I went through with that wannabe D-bag?" She asked then.

"I think we'd all like to forget about that phase." I replied.

"Well. I guess I sort of went through a vintage car phase too, but neither of them have to do with what I'm doing with now."

"So?" I shrugged.

Jane shook the can of paint. "I had a rotten day yesterday. All right, Morgendorffer? The entire Lane family came to visit, & you know how that goes." The nasty yellow paint hisses out. "They sent me on a food run at this really shady diner. Right? A shallow, poser, looking place where people at the counter purposely get your name wrong."

"Let me guess. They got yours wrong?"

"OH. It gets better. I stomped right out of the place. Then THIS piece of old junk almost ran me over, making me spill the two ton order all over myself."

I ran my flashlight to the trunk of the vehicle, as I made my way toward it. "Um. You wouldn't happen to catch the driver's face by any chance, did you?"

"I saw red." Jane joked.

"Funny." I muttered. "I'm being serious."

"Trent probably got glimpse of the guy. I don't know. He told me the driver was seriously apologetic, that he was in a rush, but I totally beg to differ. Why?"

"A guy." I mumbled. I pointed the light back at Jane's finished art piece, & blinked. "Wow. Nice, ah, use of anatomy."

Jane laughs. "Yeah! Not bad. If I do say so myself. I call it, 'Shift Your Stick Into Drive Baby!' DAMN. Do I feel a lot better."

"Do you hear that?" I asked looking over my shoulder.

"No. What?"

"The sound of your ego blasting through the sky."

"Damn you good, Morgendorffer!" She smiles. "Help me get this stuff back to my place?"

I shrugged. "Treat me to a slice of pizza later?"

"Sure." Jane replied.

Jane & I took a few minutes to gather the pieces of cardboard & spray cans off of the ground. I was reaching for the last can of yellow from underneath the car, when I heard Jane over me.

"Oh yeah." She says. "I've been meaning to ask you something Daria-"

"Yeah?" I reply back struggling to reach the paint. Jane uttered two words, before I ran my palm on a sharp object I thought was the last of the aerosol paint cans. "OW." I quickly whipped my bleeding hand back, along with the object that had slit me. It clattered no more than five inches near my knees.

"Daria are you okay-WHOA." Jane exclaimed. "Is that . . . A _KNIFE_?"

"Define, okay?" I replied with.

* * *

 **NOTE: I totally had to rewrite this. It was horrible. Added a few more details & structured a couple of sentences along the way.**

 **May or may not continue this. Just a mish mosh thing of a story for now.**

 **COMMENT, FAVORITE, FOLLOW, SHARE, or WHATEVER. It doesn't really matter to me, but it'll be MUCH appreciated. THANKS FOR READING!**


	2. The Knife, The Pretty Boy & The Stalker

**ENJOY ~**

* * *

 **(DARIA):**

 **APRIL**

 **SUNDAY MORNING** **6 AM**

Jane took the liberty of tending to my wounded palm back at her place. Damn. Did it stung like one mother. We were in her family's kitchen, sitting across from each other at the breakfast table. I sat on uncomfortable big wooden chair with an ass numbing cushion. Dubbed "The Royal Throne" by her odd stricken family. It was the only chair that matched the wood polished table. The rest of the chairs were made out of cheap metal. They were the type of chairs that were folded up & taken outside. Usually for family BBQ or something. As to what happened to the matching set of chairs? I haven't a clue. Probably used in some art project. I left an open bleeding hand on a pile of napkins at the edge of the table, & my other was clutched in a fist so tight on my lap my knuckles turned white.

"Ow!" I practically yelled for the fifth time. "Has anyone told you, you'd make a really lousy nurse?"

"Has anyone told YOU, you have NO pain tolerance whatsoever?" Jane scoffed. "I'm good with paint brushes & colored pencils, not gauze or bandages, Morgendorffer! Now are you going stop squirming? Or am I just going have to force rubbing alcohol on you?"

A huff escaped out of me. To distract myself from the swollen stinging sensation coming from my hand, I stared at the tool that caused the long gash in the first place. The knife. At first glance, it appeared to be an ordinary hunting weapon. It was silver, with a curved, serrated-edged blade, & a wooden handle. Upon a closer inspection, bizzare engraved squiggles can be seen along the reflective surface. I took a couple advanced language classes in school. They could've been traditional _Hanzi_ characters, maybe even _Kanji_ , but I couldn't read any of the letters on its blade.

Jane finished the bandaging by severely tightening the gauze around my hand which caused me to whip it back. I felt myself scowl when I found my friend smirking at me.

"You did that on purpose. Didn't you?"

"Gulity." She laughs.

I massaged my hand. "Well. As punishment I'm not thanking you."

"Fair enough."

A pause.

Bluntly. I had to ask, "Do you think we should've left the knife where it was?"

Jane shrugged as I heard a clutter from her gathering all the first-aid items to their rightful places. She jokingly answers with different question, "Do you think it belongs to a serial killer?"

"That's not funny." I snapped back.

"Ooh! Touchy. Why do you ask?"

I explained the whole ordeal with the vintage vehicle & its owner. Jane didn't say anything the entire time I spoke. I couldn't tell if she was silently judging me or if she was coming up with a clever insult of how stupidly paranoid I was.

Instead. Jane replies with, "So the car is giving you the worst case of the heebie jeebies." She crossed her arms. "You know. Aside from what you told me, giving me the conclusion you have no life whatsoever,"

I rolled my eyes.

"I gotta say," She continued. "parking in the same spot in the middle of the night IS kind of sketchy. I'm surprised no one's filed a complain yet."

"That's not problem though. How would you explain the knife? What if the guy really is . . . "

Jane snorts. "A murderer? Come on Daria! This is boring Lawndale. Maybe the guy is just a wannabe badass, who likes to carve hearts into trees with his & his girlfriend's initals on it. If something like 'Dude's a serial killer' was spread around, I think it might be the highlight of the century in the local newspapers. Besides," She flicks my forehead.

"Ow."

"I think you've been watching WAY too much Sick-Sad-World, missy. You should probably catch up on your Z's. You look pretty awful." A pause. Then, "Well more than usual."

Great. I was expecting Jane to be the last person to tell me that, but nevertheless I did have to agree with her. I felt myself nodding off the last couple of sentences.

I sigh. "Are we still up for pizza later?"

"Count on it." She lifts a finger at me. "Unless of course you intend to sleep until 2 in afternoon."

* * *

 **APRIL**

 **SUNDAY MORNING 7 AM**

Just when I thought the day was going to greet me with a wonderful ray of sunshine . . . it doesn't.

The moment I stepped out of the Lane's residence, winds had started to pick up, along with a drizzle. It was the kind of light rain that warns you there's going be an awful downpour later. Jane had offered me an umbrella, but my family's place was only three blocks away from hers. I thought it would be best if I just sped walked the entire way. Or possibly jog half of it & then full blown sprint the rest of it. I had the brilliant idea of taking the weird knife with me. It was tucked inside my jacket's breast pocket. Hoping it wouldn't fall out, or poke a hole through it, I had to keep patting it in place. I kept telling myself I didn't steal it, & I was sure as hell wasn't going to keep it. I was going to return it.

I get to walking. Taking Jane's & my conversation all in. She made a point. Lawndale was a pretty miserable boring place. With its boring suburban ranch houses, boring cracked sidewalks, & boring vague mountain scenery in the distance. There's no possible way that anything interesting would happen here. No reason at all to be paranoid anymore. Right? I was just sleep deprived. I then get to thinking about my parents. Wondering if they had awoken yet. How would I explain my absence this morning? I doubt they were awake at this hour. Sunday was their only day off. They would always sleep in give or take. Knowing my mother though, an early bird, she'd start her babbling as early as eight in the morning, waking everyone up in the process. Whether it was on the phone or with my father. She talks. A lot.

I was half way through the third block when I pulled out of my thoughts.

I heard very loud profanity.

Looks like somebody just discovered the meaning of deliberate, mischievous, & malicious act of destroying property. I made the mistake of stopping. Almost pulling a smile at Jane's art piece on the car she vandalized & the guy's fit of hysteria. Only then to realize I had his knife. Maybe he was mad that it was missing. I then stupidly gawked at Mr. Leather & Ripped Jeans. Just two seconds too late in making the decision to return to Jane's place, my left boot stomped into an early dirty mud puddle beside the sidewalk I was walking on.

"Damn it." I mildly mumbled. Not because of the grief stricken rain soaked boot, but rather because I was pretty sure the guy with the vintage car had heard me. I tried my best not to cringe when he spoke.

I felt him glance in my direction. "Nice weather, huh?" He said.

I knew his type. Now that I've gotten a closer chance to study him. He had obvious chisled, broad, handsome features & a muscular built. Lightly toned in tan. Cropped dark blonde, light brown hair. Green eyes. Yeah. The whole D-bag package. Maybe he was a wannabe badass who carved his & his girlfriend's intials in a tree. He could've also swept another dimwitted girl right off her feet just by a single damn good alluring smile, & ditch the first right after. I instantly didn't like him.

When I met the guy's gaze I surprised myself by giving him a shrug. Even more so with a reply, "Excuse me?"

"Then again," He continued. "I like the rain. Too much sun hurts my eyes."

An uncomfortable feeling formed in the pit of my stomach when he started to approach me. I immediately made the plan to make a run for it, but before the thought of making a few steps even crossed my mind, the guy demanded that I, "Don't. Move."

My blood ran cold the moment I caught him drawing a gun from his lower back.

My hands involuntarily rose. "What the hell are you doing?" I exclaimed.

It took me a solid minute to realize the guy wasn't even pointing the gun at me, but rather the other hovering over my shoulder. I thought pretty boy was bad news. The second one was just as worse. He was a grotesque, giant of a neanderthal, with an awful blinding white grin. What the hell was going on? How did I not know someone was stalking me on my way home? Let alone someone who was clearly hard to miss! My mind just about bursted into a fit of hysteria when I was locked in a chokehold. I was lifted ten inches off the ground, forced to make an uncomfortable gargled sound to come out of me.

"You think you're so smart Dean Winchester!" His voice boomed over to the guy in front of me.

"Let her go! YOU SON OF A BITCH." Dean barked back.

"Not a chance!" A chortle. "Heard you were looking for your baby brother. Tell you what. You let me have this piece of sweet ass. I might just tell you where he is!"

It's only when I began to see black spots did a horrendous thought crossed my mind. I gathered up the nerve to fumble around in my breast pocket. I couldn't believe what I intended to do next.

I violently wrung both of my hands back & jabbed the bastard in the gut

WITH THE KNIFE . . . . .

* * *

 **NOTE: Oh! Look at that. MORE mish mosh.**

 **COMMENT, FAVORITE, FOLLOW, SHARE, or WHATEVER. It doesn't really matter, but it'll be greatly appreciated. THANKS FOR READING!**


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